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Suffering was like song.
Deep and thick, it resonated low and pervasively. He felt it deep in his soul, as much as any one person can be possessed by sound. It echoed in his mind, melodic and melancholic as if darkness had a voice. The shadow danced to it, wrapping around him like a partner and forcing him further and further down. Laced with grief like a drug, it vibrated with each nervous motion he would make, louder and louder and louder with nothing else to hear.
He staved it off with memory, purposefully thinking of different songs, the hymns of his dreams, not the chants of his nightmares. And he always came back to the same place, the first song he'd ever heard with lyrics, the first time a voice had the same power over him as melody.
It was a talent that should have been obvious, but absolutely no one expected. It wasn't even as if it was because of her predatory nature, because he knew of hunting birds on Tattooine with ringing voices. He even knew of other Jedi lauded for the notes they could reach. But it wasn't at a recital or even a terrible diplomatic party he heard her for the first time.
They were crashed out on a beautiful planet with high plateaus that fell off into massive valleys. The plateaus were lush with greenery and animal life, but the valleys were filled with 'needles' - long, narrow spires of unforgiving rock worn away by the meeting of three tides. The water was gone in the modern ages, but the teeth they'd left behind stood in silent testimony to the wrath of water.
They'd been lucky to crash on a plateau, even luckier to find edible fruit nearby. He'd gone to gather it while she programmed the distress beacon. She'd managed a small fire by the time he returned and he cuddled with her close to the flame for the rest of the evening, munching sporadically at the berries until the peace of the darkening evening overtook him and lulled him to sleep on her leg, her robes and wing draped over him.
"While you sleep, dream of me
I'll be keeping a memory,
living in my heart and soul,
waiting for the day,
when we will be together again.
"Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above,
where I know he's waiting for me.
Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above."
He blinked awake blearily, the fire crackling methodically away. The edges of her feathers caught the dying firelight, but the lightening of the sky in the north told him it was nearing pre-morning. He wondered if it was part of his dream. He closed his eyes just in case - he wanted to sink into the tenor of the voice.
"Take me away,
to the shining light,
over the waves,
peaceful at night.
There among the stars,
glowing in the dark,
you watch over me,
smiling down patiently.
"Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above,
where I know he is waiting for me.
Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above."
No, that voice wasn't in his dream. As he sunk back into unconsciousness, it became further and further away. He wanted it, he needed to hear it, felt it resonate through his entire body. Never had he woken on the ground and felt so lovely.
"Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above,
where I know he is waiting for me.
Carry me,
to my love,
o'er the sea to the clouds above."
He looked up, finding her in the same position she'd been when he fell asleep in the first place. Her voice echoed down into the valley, a haunting chorus to follow her last, graceful note. She began the song again, apparently having done the rendition enough to start over as smoothly as anything.
He laid there for hours, just listening to her sing. He'd been with her for years and never once heard her so much as attempt a note. When she looked down at sunrise to wake up him, she immediately flushed.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Most of the night."
"My apologies." She said, looking away and hiding behind the curtain of her hair. "I didn't mean to wake you with my cawing."
"You didn't wake me." He sat up, frowning. "And did call your singing 'cawing'?"
"Well, that's what it is." She cleared her throat, though it didn't sound like she'd been using it all night.
"I can't believe you'd keep this from me."
"Pardon?"
"All this time, you've been able to sing like an angel, and you've never done it. How could you rob me of something so beautiful?"
Her flush deepened and she looked startled in the kind of manner that usually meant she was going to run away.
"C'mon Master. There's no good excuse for this one." He sulked. "You've been able to sing this entire time and never even told me, let alone hear you! I had to spy on you."
"You- You actually liked listening to me sing?"
"Yeah! Why wouldn't I?" When he looked back at her, the uncomfortable look on her face made him instantly regretful. "Who told you that you sang ugly? I'll cut off their head!"
"Anakin . . ." It was supposed to be a reprimand, but it just sounded resignedly affectionate.
"I'll do it."
"I know you will." She cooed, reaching up and stroking through his hair, arranging his part back into place. "Many people told me I should not sing. You would go through most of the Temple."
"Well, they're stupid." He said vehemently. "I want to hear you sing. You have to sing for me."
"I have to, do I?"
"Yes. It's too beautiful not to."
She smiled at him sadly, as if she didn't believe him. "Okay. I'll sing for you then. But only when we're in private, understand?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan." He smirked cheekily. "Any word from the Temple?"
"Oh, yes. They've got a ship on it's way now." She replied, letting him pull her to her feet. "It should be here within the day. If all goes according to plan."
"Alright." He sat up and stretched. "Did you sleep at all, Master?"
"No. But that's fine. I don't need to sleep as much as you anyway."
"If you're sure."
She smiled and stood, flexing her wings spectacularly in the morning sun.
"Can you teach me to sing?"
She glanced over at him. "I don't know if you'll want to learn from me."
"Master, you're the one who's voice I like. I want to be able to harmonize with you."
She sighed heavily. "If you insist, Padawan."
They continued on, gathering more firewood and wild fruits until the fall of night. She taught him notes to hold, teaching him what harmonizing with her would actually entail. Her voice was mesmerizing and he could have spent their whole time just listening to her.
He considered Padmé an angel - a soft, delicate being made of steel and determination. She was a light in the galaxy. But Obi-Wan . . .
What title befit her? She was a stunning woman - massive gold-shining wings with a matching waterfall of copper hair. She was flawless in her natural appearance, genteel in temperament and calm in disposition. Atop all of that, she was a swordsmaster, a tactician, a philosopher, a scientist, a monk, a warrior, a leader, a teacher and now a singer. Obi-Wan was what everyone wished they were, the kind whose very breathing evoked faith and courage. She was a bulwark and a commander, a woman capable of learning what she didn't know from observation. She wasn't an angel, her edges were too hard and her face too polished. She was something more, something above an angel. She was a deity, brought down from above to guide them. She was beautiful in a wholly unnatural way, and he was just drawn into her, irreparably bound to her fate.
Some time around dusk, he was gathering some more berries and testing his ability to hold the note she wanted him to practise when there was movement in the brush.
He stopped, looking around. The planet was inhabited, this they knew, but the locals believed the needles were haunted and avoided them. This close to the edge, they shouldn't be here.
When he woke up next, it was being held up by a six-armed chitinous creature. Obi-Wan was kneeling some feet away from him, heavy-looking metal shackles resting on the second joint of her wings and tying them lose enough together that she couldn't open her wings enough to catch lift.
"Who led you here?" The creature demanded.
"We crashed our ship and are awaiting recovery." She said. He could sense the note of panic in her voice, though he knew the others couldn't. He was bound at the hands and ankles, but was too dizzy to focus on much. The back of his head throbbed from where he'd been struck.
"Lies!" The creature hissed. "They sent you, didn't they? They sent warriors from another planet out here to destroy us despite the treaty!"
"I was unaware this planet was even in civil turmoil." She replied. "Please just allow us time to leave. We will not return."
"We cannot allow reinforcements. Tell us who sent you or he goes to the Elders!"
"No one sent us. We crashed on our way to another planet." She insisted.
"You leave me no choice."
His shoulder was released and suddenly he was falling. The rush of adrenaline kicked the grogginess from his system and he realized he was plummeting towards the needles.
"Anakin!"
He braced for impact as the needles rushed closer. And just after learning about her singing too.
Arms wrapped around him, shimmering feathers blocking out the light. He was pulled flush to her chest, his face tucked into her neck and his legs secured between hers.
He had just enough time to remember the restraints stopped her from flying when the impact occurred.
The long, high points of the needles pushed past them as her body collided with the unyielding rock. The slam resulted in a deafening boom, sending dust and particles flying into the air.
Her tense and protective body went lax.
He lay there in the cradle of her body for a long moment, trying to regain his lost breath.
"Master? Are you okay?" He asked, voice raspy. Had he been screaming?
She didn't answer, so he pushed up as best he could, trying to get a look at her face. Her expression was empty, eyes closed like she was sleeping. Blood was seeping from the torn and ripped skin on the side of her face from skidding down the unforgiving rock. Her left wing, which had taken the most immediate hit, was crumpled and bent in ways it shouldn't be. He realized she was no longer holding onto him, just limply existing.
"Master!" He cried, shimmying up to check her vitals. Her pulse was erratic but there, her breathing shallow but enough.
He looked around as best he could, searching for something, anything to help. Only the bases of the spires greeted him. Tears and panic overwhelmed him. They were stranded, now away from their ship and she was badly injured. She might die.
The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through him and he began to openly sob, crawling back into her lifeless embrace and tucking himself against her.
"Don't leave me, Master." He pleaded as best he could through gasps for air. "Master, Master please. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just don't leave me."
He must have cried himself out there, because he awoke to the gentle hand of Luminara.
"Padawan, are you unharmed?" She asked.
"I'm okay." His voice was choked, dry from dehydration and blinding terror. "But Obi-Wan-"
"I know, Padawan, I know." She eased him from Obi-Wan's body. "I must get you to the ship before I can begin to assist her. I must be delicate."
She passed him off to Master Fisto, who guided him to the ship. Master Fisto lowered the ship's bay doors and Luminara Force-lifted Obi-Wan's unresponsive body into the cargo hold. Luminara hopped in after her and the two Masters laid her out on a series of cots, doing what they could to keep from jostling her.
He sat next to her the whole ride back to Coruscant, holding her uninjured hands and focusing on her signature in the Force. It was faint - she was dying - but he poured himself into it, holding onto her spark like he did her hand.
"We must get her into the Temple, young one." Fisto murmured, taking his hand and leading him away.
Fisto let him watch as Luminara and a group of Jedi healers arranged Obi-Wan on two medical beds and floated her into the Temple's medical ward. Her body was on one bed, her mangled wing on the other.
"Will she be okay?" He asked. Master Fisto pet his hair.
"She is strong, and we found you in time." But it wasn't an answer.
Fisto led him back to his shared room with her, but then left him alone. The silence was deafening.
He went into her room, with the always-open door, and dug in her closet. He took one of her robes and wrapped himself in it. It smelt of her and her detergent - the light scent of orange sherbet mixed with rich bergamot. He drowned in the massive robes, this one big enough to cover her wings as well. He dragged it over, curling up in the pile of cloth and laying on her favourite pillow.
Then he began to sing.
He sang and he sang until the tears welled, spiller, then ran dry. He sang until he passed out and sang again when he woke.
Luminara came in sometime that day, a sad expression on her face as she took in his pitiful state.
"We stabilized her and have finished setting her bones. She is asleep, but you can come see her now."
He decided to take the robe with him, the brown material trailing behind him morosely. Luminara indulged him without a word, leading him into the medical wing and then into a large ward room, meant for two to three beds.
Obi-Wan was laying still in one bed, her left wing stretched out like an art display. Various pins and wires were used to set her bones, the feathers crumpled and in disrepair.
"Why isn't she in a bacta tank?"
"Bacta would heal her better, but there is no tank big enough to fit her." Luminara explained. "We cannot compromise her wings to fit her inside a tank. She can only heal naturally."
"How long will that take?"
"Months." She replied softly.
"She won't wake up for months?"
"Right now we have her sedated to keep the pain at bay. Once she is no longer in so much pain, she can be safely awakened."
He walked over to her bedside, examining for himself the litany of scar tissue and blue-black bruising hiding between bacta strips. Up close, the damage to her wings was even more pronounced. The way the pins held her bones together, like sticks on a molecule display, made him want to be sick. She was pale, fragile, and haunting in her stillness.
Obi-Wan was a calm person, prone to meditation and contemplation. But she was not still. She lived, she breathed, she would open her eyes and invite him to join her. There was none to be found in her corpse-like motionlessness.
He crawled in on the right side of the bed, careful to avoid the cracked ribs and splintered arm, to tuck himself in against her. And quietly, he sang.
Every day, for a month and a half, he returned to her side and lay with her. Very rarely did he bring something to do, just lay at her side and sing or humm.
Each day she lay dormant, he grew more and more worried. He grew more and more afraid she would never return to the land of the living. And worse, he feared if she awoke and her wing was useless.
His dreams were haunted by visions of her blaming him for loss of the use of her wing, weeping in the dark over the loss of her freedom. He would awake in tears, second-hand grief settling heavily in the pit of his stomach and remaining with him for the remainder of the day.
He woke up from one such napping nightmare to the feel of fingers running through his hair, gently, carefully, weakly. He looked to the side of the bed - sometimes Master Nu took pity on him when she came to offer him books or hologames, but the ward room was empty. He looked up, checking her face. Her lashes fluttered and she managed a smile, her blue eyes as beautiful as a kyber crystal.
"Don't cry, Anakin." She rasped, voice hoarse and thick with disuse. Her hand landed on the nape of his neck again.
He broke out into wailing sobs so loud that Luminara and several other Healers came running, their own hearts frantic with fear. Obi-Wan waved serenely at them from the bed.
The next couple of hours was spent readjusting her to water and food, but little sips at a time of only lukewarm substances. Anakin handled it entirely, not allowing the nurses to do anything it was possible for him to.
"You have a very steadfast and loyal Padawan." Luminara said. "He's not left your side."
She smiled softly. "Anakin is my hero."
He didn't leave her side that night, nor for the next few weeks she remained. He slept in her bed until it was safe to move her back to their quarters.
Obi-Wan moved gingerly, and never very far. Her wing close to her body was still pinned in a recovery position, so she was off-balance and unsteady. However, in that time, she taught him how to maintain her feathers. Under his diligence, the feathers straightened and grew back, a perfect match to its twin.
"I can sense you are anxious, young one." She said when they were out in the top-tier gardens.
"No, Master."
"Anakin." She pulled him close, wrapping her right wing around him. "Tell me what's on your mind. Let me help you."
"The last time you helped me got you injured and almost killed you." He slammed his mouth shut - he'd not meant to say that.
"Ah. So that's it." She wrapped her free arm around him too, sitting him on her leg in such a way he'd have to wrap his legs around her waist but was looking at her.
"Master, I-"
"How about I share my thoughts, hmm?"
He nodded timidly.
"As your Master and your caretaker, it is my duty to protect and train you. It is my duty to guide you to adulthood against all adversity, both physical and mental." She made sure their eyes were locked. "But that's not why I jumped off after you."
He couldn't hide his surprise, not this close. Not so soon after her awakening.
"I jumped off after you because you are dear to me, because I couldn't bear to see you hurt, because I never wish for you to come to harm. I love you, Anakin, and you are as close to me as anyone has ever been. That same sick feeling you experienced seeing me injured is nothing compared to what I would feel seeing you dead. I told you when you were a boy, I will always be there, I will always protect you. I would do it again and shatter every bone in my body to do it."
"Master, no!"
She shushed him. "Anakin, you are a very precious star to me. If it is in my power, I will save you. But I am also sorry."
"S- Sorry?"
"Yes. I am sorry. I am sorry I could not be there for you during your time of crisis, that I could not comfort you while you suffered. But I will always prefer you sad to dead."
He hugged her tightly. "You made the worst whimpers. Every time the breeze caught your feathers and pulled - you would cry out and whine in pain. I would try and soothe your mind, but you were in so much agony, I just couldn't take it. I couldn't help you even though it was my fault-"
"Your fault?"
He nodded. "I was singing and they heard me and if I hadn't of been, they wouldn't-"
"Anakin, no." She sounded heartbroken. "Anakin, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. Nothing that happened was in any way your fault."
He wanted to argue, but a sudden pressure against his mind opened him up to a backdrop of blue light, the sparkling wonderment of space dust. She vibrated radiant energy, shone bright and voluminous and captivating like looking into a cut gem backlight by a sun. She was beautiful and whole and healthy - no more pain tainting her, no more whispers of torture on her psyche. Then, she reached out and enveloped him in that light, let him bask in it and melt the ice deep in his soul.
I am here, young one. I will always be right here.
He never forgot the incident, and indeed he'd had to relearn his trust in her strength. But she continued to persevere and grow and shine. She willed herself whole and did indeed continue to protect him well into his adult years. But the melody was haunting him now, filling the void where her light should be.
He stood on the bridge of his Star Destroyer, watching insignificant pinpricks of light and life flash him by. The world spun around him and plans carried forward and he's sure he'd spoken at some point. He could only hear the refrain of inescapable loss echoing in his head, ringing and ringing and ringing in his ears.
Suffering was song, and it sung in the lilting tones of Obi-Wan's lost voice.